


Star Trek: Picard (Anti-Kurtzman Canon) Episode 3 "Dark as Erebus"

by sendmeincoach



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, Star Trek: Picard, Star Trek: The Next Generation, Star Trek: The Next Generation (Movies), Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Artificial Intelligence, F/M, Gen, Post-Episode: s07e25 Endgame (Star Trek: Voyager), Post-Movie: Star Trek Nemesis (2002), Post-Star Trek (2009), Revolution
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:42:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26691628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sendmeincoach/pseuds/sendmeincoach
Summary: In this episode of an alternative form of Star Trek: Picard Season 1, Picard hires a Ferengi contractor to build habitats for Romulan refugees. However, matters are complicated when the Ferengi's unique kind of employees stage an all out revolt. Please feel free to leave comments. I'm debating converting these episodes into video essays on YouTube.
Kudos: 2





	1. The Suite Life

Star Trek: Picard (What Could Have Been) Episode 3: “Dark as Erebus”  
By: Sendmeincoach

Author’s Note: Many thanks for the kudos and the comments. I know the last episode was longer than I had wanted but I felt it necessary to build characters. This one will be significantly shorter. 

The goal of this episode: Now that characters have been established and the general arc of the show is in place, the next several episodes are intended to tackle the same kinds of issues the actual “Star Trek: Picard” show tackled however in a more optimistic style. 

The first theme this version of the show will tackle deals with the rights of synthetic beings and their exploitation in the 25th Century. Due to the precedent established by the “Next Generation” episode “The Measure of a Man,” the Federation should have no business employing sentient artificial lifeforms ---or “synths” as they’re named in the show--- for slave labor as depicted in the “Star Trek: Picard” television show. At least not without a proper explanation why. 

However, the ethical implications of modern automation and the application of potentially sentient artificial intelligence in unwanted tasks is definitely a topic worthy of Star Trek-style exploration. So here we go. 

Chapter 1: Suite Life  
Ambassador’s Log, Stardate: 75328.6   
Now that we have located an appropriate planet for our Romulan refugee fleet to settle, I have contracted trailblazing Ferengi entrepreneur Daimon Yashe to manufacture habitat units which will minimize the ecological impact of resettlement on the indigenous planet. With Yashe’s mobile factory safely in orbit around Hokulea 4, my Romulan aide, Edala and I are inspecting the prototype before finalizing the contract. 

Tears welled up in Edala’s eyes as she beheld the sight before her. Her jaw quivered as she stifled back as long distant memories flooded her conscious mind. Her face was bathed in a brilliant yellow and orange glow as she peered through the tapestry of sparks and flames that appeared before her. The Firefalls of Gal’Gathong were so extreme in their raw assault on the senses that only Romulans were able to fully enjoy them. 

The Firefalls were one of the seven wonders of the former planet Romulus and Edala’s personal favorite. On her first visit, she was dazzled by the technicolor wonder of the firewall descending from dizzying heights framed by the luscious green vines, leaves, and branches. The flow of unquenchable fire fell through the crust of the planet into a lava tube which led directly to the planet’s mantle. Scattered around the underground portal were dozens of vibrant red and orange zahras or Romulan fire blossoms. While the extreme heat and searing winds were enough to obliterate plants from any other planet, the zahra and the rest of the surrounding flora thrived around the firefalls. The extremophile blossoms spread out from the firefalls like errant sparks from a mighty forge. 

While the picturesque sight was enough to impress any visitor who gazed upon it, the firefalls held a secret which only the true children of Romulus knew. If one could scale the 100 meter cliff without falling victim to the relentless torrents of scorching fire, a special cave rested behind the blaze with a view of the entire Karethvek province.   
Edala lost count of how many times she tried to access the cave. The emergency transporter beacon her mother placed on her person managed to save her from any lethal consequences caused by her failed attempts but spontaneously materializing on firm ground after several seconds at free-fall still caused many a bruise and muscular strain. But her father continued to encourage her and gave her tips for the proper places on the rock for hand grips. 

When she finally and exhaustively poured herself into the cave, she found her father sitting on the edge. The beaming glow of pride on his face was forever etched in her mind. “Well done, zahra.” The vibrant flower blossom rested in her father’s hand. “Like the zahra itself, you grow stronger under pressure. You will accomplish anything you desire.” Edala placed the blossom over her right ear as the two enjoyed the Romulan sunset before beaming back down.

That was thirty years ago. 

Now, the Firefalls of Gal’gathong were reduced to atoms by the Hobus Supernova. Until this very day, the unparalleled beauty of her home planet only existed in memory. But now, she was back. Her fingers ached from the treacherous drudgery of the climb. The skin on her palms was grated from the jagged surfaces of the granite rock she scaled. But, Edala did not care. With the sun setting over the highest ridge before her, paradise appeared to be redeemed. 

Suddenly, Daimon Yashe appeared out of thin air from behind her. The small Ferengi’s vibrant silk suit perfectly complemented the raging fire brewing over the cliff. Latinum bracelets gilded his wrists while he clasped his hands together expectantly. The two dozen jagged spires of teeth rose up in a smile as he uttered one simple phrase in his signature nasally voice. “Well.... what do you think?” 

Edala smiled and eagerly turned back to the rippling wall of fire. “It’s perfect.” 

Yashe’s smile grew wider as he rubbed his hands together causing his bracelets to jingle. “That’s good to hear. I deal exclusively in perfection. Just don’t tell the Borg.” He raised his head to the top of the cave. “Computer, end program.” 

In a digital ripple, the boundless natural wonders that surrounded them were replaced with a cramped sterile metal chamber. Edala shuffled around the Ferengi merchant to see Picard standing expectantly through a window in the small hatch behind them. 

As the pressurized hatch slid open, Edala exited the shimmering booth with a smile. “Surprisingly accurate, Ambassador.” Edala answered her mentor’s unspoken question. “It’s a piece of home any Romulan can take with them. And I can’t tell you just how much that would mean to some of our refugees.” 

As they exited the hatchway, the Ferengi businessman explained that his “holobooth” could house a family of five if necessary with its expandable walls. The unfortunate trade-off, however, was that the expanding walls altered the holographic resolution. If purchased, the holographic projectors could render every inch of the former planet Romulus from the Apnex Sea to the floor of the Imperial Senate. 

Picard nodded warmly at his aide’s enthusiastic nostalgia before turning to Yashe with strict professional bearing. “How much for the holobooth add-on?”

Yashe smiled and shrugged. “Ordinarily, I’d have to charge an extra 15,000 bars of gold pressed latinum per unit. This is a sophisticated piece of machinery, after all.” 

Picard folded his arms unimpressed by the sales tactic causing Yashe to frown. “However, since I am doing business with the legendary Ambassador Jean-Luc Picard, Hero of the Federation and Peacemaker Extraordinaire, I think I can afford a pretty steep discount. Dropping your name as a satisfied customer is the kind of rare publicity not even latinum can buy.”

Picard steadfastly stared at the Ferengi before asking the Ferengi his bottom line. 

Yashe fawningly raised his hands before quoting the ambassador at 5,000 bars per unit for the add-on. 

Picard staunchly extended his hand to the Ferengi merchant. “It’s a deal.” 

A small giggle leaked through Yashe’s gapped teeth as he shook Picard’s hand. “Wonderful, and don’t forget the sixteenth rule of acquisition: a deal is a deal…” “...Until a better one comes along.” Picard finished the quote lest Yashe would manipulate the sacred maxim for the Ferengi’s own personal gain. “And I assure you, Daimon, between this habitat manufacturing contract and the venture in the Elas system over which we negotiated last month, you won’t get a more lucrative deal on this side of the galaxy.” 

Yashe giddily clapped his hands. “By the way, Ambassador, any time you are near the Elas system, I will see to it that you have a presidential suite at Yashe’s Paradise Planet!” Picard dryly responded. “My own suite? That is a tempting offer.” Yashe aggressively raised his right finger. “And your own line of credit for the tables, one pile of latinum: that’s half a million bars.” 

Picard smirked. “Is this an attempt to gain more of that rare publicity you were talking about?”

Yashe emphatically shook his head. “No, Ambassador, it’s sincere appreciation. Originally, I turned down your suggestion for developing that sunken continent into a resort. But, now I see the error of my ways. I’ve seen surveys from my Research and Development contractors and they can’t believe what they’re finding. There are wonders beyond imagination beneath those islands. It’s practically a license to print my own latinum.” 

The trio then made their way through the habitat’s dining room and living room. The ornate columns and cushioned curved furniture reminded Edala straight of her former home. Once at the exit hatch, Picard nodded thoughtfully. “Well, after your construction is complete and whenever we get a reprieve in our business, we will have to pay your resort a visit.” 

Yashe gave an excited giggle as he led the two Federation ambassadors onto the dull gray surface of the factory floor. The beige ziggurat from which they exited rested right below a series of snaking cables equipped with cutting beams and docking clamps. As Picard and Edala made their way from the unit, they found that they were walking on a giant airlock which when opened allowed the unit to float down to the planet with the guidance of special thrusters mounted on every corner. 

Yashe gestured to the four rows of three construction bays before turning to Picard. “I know you had a sort of ‘deadline problem’ last week when you were negotiating for Romulan settlement. You don’t have to worry about that here.” He pointed to the twelve bays with self-impressed showmanship. “I can give you twelve habitats every hour like clockwork. Non-stop. All 5,000 of your refugees will be settled in less than four days with their own household habitat and a replicator capable of cooking authentic dishes straight from the former homeworld, including Romulan mollusks and ale.”

Edala’s face became twisted with joy and incredulous confusion. “With all appreciation, Daimon, that’s an extremely ambitious goal. How could you manage such a feat?” 

Yashe smiled and pointed towards a large blast door on the other end of the synthetic jungle in which they stood. “This is my newest trade secret. If you tell a soul about it, I’ll sue the Federation for every strip of latinum it has.” 

With the push of a button, a volley of cold air brushed Picard and Edala’s face as the thick metal slab ascended into its overhead housing. A vast warehouse rested behind the thick blast door. The faint blue lighting along the floorboards, illuminated the contours of a thousand humanoid figures listlessly standing upright and oblivious. Edala looked at Picard inquiringly as Yashe led them into the chamber. 

The cold storage vault echoed with the trio’s footsteps and Yashe’s chuckles as they made their way to the main control panel along the left wall. 

With the push of two buttons, a small cylinder fell into Yashe’s hand and a series of white floodlights kicked on. Picard frowned as he surveyed the warehouse. The figures were faithful recreations of the human form. In fact, they were in perfect physical condition. The scant garments in which they were clad depicted bulging muscles and defined curves making each male an Adonis and every female a Venus. 

Yashe proudly indicated the thousands of catatonic humans before him. “Introducing the Yashe Worker-Bots 8.0. Whether it’s building a thousand habitat units or providing companionship on a lonely weekend night, these synthetics have it all.” 

Picard troublingly raised an eyebrow before turning to Yashe. “What do you mean by that?” 

Yashe smiled deviously. “They’re strong. They’re diligent. And they’re fully functional. Programmable in multiple techniques. Love is love and love is good for business.” Yashe turned to Edala for a small sales pitch. “And if you’d prefer a Romulan synth for companionship, that’s a quick fix. Their scalps, foreheads, and ears are all interchangeable with other species. They pop right off.”

Picard frowned before crossing his hands. “I don’t understand, are you saying these are workers or companions?” 

Yashe raised the silver cylinder with the theatricality of a magician. “They do whatever I tell them.” 

Yashe pushed the activation button at the tip of the cylinder which caused every humanoid figure to noticeably flinch. As every synthetic representing possible persuasion of humanity began blinking, two thousand eyes focused on the Ferengi standing before them and his remote control. “Good morning my employees.” Yashe addressed the machines with overwhelming affection. 

A chorus of a thousand voices responded in unwavering unison. “Good morning, my Lord Yashe.” 

Yashe flinched cringingly as he felt Picard’s glaring disapproval burn into his left lobe. “It’s the factory setting,” Yashe explained with a pathetic shrug. Yashe then explained the task that his synthetic minions were tasked with accomplishing. On cue, the battalion of bionic bodies filed into a series of hatchways on the farside of the warehouse which led to a cluster of locker rooms. 

Only a single synthetic worker remained. She was a female with long thick strands of blonde hair draped halfway down her back. As she made her way towards Yashe, the Ferengi indicated her as “Helen Prime” explaining that every synthetic being came from a series which was modeled after a beautiful or handsome figure in human literature.  
“Her face may not have launched a thousand Greek ships, but she can sure launch a thousand habitat units. Not to mention her beauty has sparked many a conflict with armies of strong men.” Yashe declared before giving the lead android a playful nudge. 

Picard uneasily stared at the synthetic woman. Her deep green eyes reminded him of the color of old money, back before the Federation’s new economy was adopted. Subconsciously, Picard assured himself that this design choice was intentional. 

“My Lord Yashe, for us to accomplish your task in time, we require energy assistance from the nearby Federation vessel.” Helen Prime’s voice was direct and assertive. She then explained that a soft particle burst from the Destiny’s deflector dish would sufficiently power all twelve of the assembly bays. 

Yashe turned to Picard and shrugged. “You’re getting so much for so little. The least you can do is give my factories a jump start.” Picard reluctantly complied. As Picard signaled the Destiny with instructions, Helen Prime then added. “I require the services of Hannibal 324 and Spartacus 731 for an efficient completion of the task.” 

Yashe signaled his agreement with the flick of his wrist. “We will spare no expense for our dear friend, Ambassador Picard.” 

After the female synthetic and her two male assistants clothed themselves in matching blue jumpsuits, Edala gave them instructions for transport. All the while, Picard stared at Yashe with boiling contempt. Finally, Edala turned back to him with an expression that caused his concerns to momentarily ebb. If Picard canceled production now, it would take several days to get a new contractor to provide habitats. Forcing the Romulan refugees to wait that long might cause another diplomatic incident. 

Before the three synthetic people disappeared, Yashe playfully brandished his silver cylinder in front of his workers. “Now, don’t forget to be on your best behavior aboard the Destiny. You may be on another ship but the quantum entanglement sensors on this thing can stop you anywhere in the known galaxy. I don’t want a repeat of the Badlands incident.” Helen Prime obsequiously bowed. “Understood, my Lord Yashe.” 

When the three androids vanished in the Destiny’s transporter beam, Edala returned to Picard who promptly called for a meeting in Yashe’s office.

U.S.S. Destiny NCC-4172020 Transporter Room 1   
“Some unusual guests,” This description from Picard rang through Commander Miguel Sanchez’s head as he briskly made his way to Transporter Room 1. As he stepped through the chamber’s threshold, he saw three columns of blue and white light atomically reconstruct the three workers from Yashe’s Ferengi vessel. 

From the moment her face appeared, Sanchez found himself fixated on Helen Prime. What about this passenger could possibly be described as unusual? For all the engineer knew, she was a perfectly normal human scientist who needed to collaborate with him on a project. Helen Prime stepped off the platform and addressed the Transporter Chief. “You are this vessel’s chief engineer?” Her dispassionate monotone voice struck Sanchez as off. Ordinarily he admired people who were direct and to the point. It made fixing things a lot easier. But this person’s voice inflections felt forced. In response to the woman’s query, the young redheaded crewman shook his head and indicated Sanchez who was still standing by the exit. 

Sanchez promptly stepped up to the woman and stretched out his hand to introduce himself. Helen Prime took his hand and wrenched it with her vice like grip. Sanchez grit his teeth a little bit before commenting on her strength. 

Ignoring his comment, Helen Prime turned to her two colleagues before addressing Sanchez. “You will take us to your Deflector Control, now.” 

Sanchez nodded while massaging his hand and cocked his head in the direction of the nearest turbolift. By the time the four of them stepped into the descending elevator car, Sanchez finally spoke again. “Joder, you’re strong! Bodybuilding is a hobby of mine and I’m always looking to improve. I’d love for you to show me your exercise routine when you get the chance.” 

Helen Prime turned to Sanchez and promptly replied. “If you wish to engage in companionship activities, you must negotiate the nature, duration, and price of said activities with Daimon Yashe first.” 

Sanchez’s eyes widened in shock. “Now, wait a minute. I wasn’t talking about that. I just wanted to get to know you. I didn’t know you were…” The two hukling bulks of Hannibal 324 and Spartacus 731 turned to glare at Sanchez which caused the engineer’s voice to trail off. Finally, Sanchez recovered with the phrase. “My mistake.” 

Sanchez found himself awkwardly counting the revolutions of the car’s engines to estimate just how long it would take to arrive at Deflector Control. Finally, after an interminable two minutes, the doors flung open and Sanchez led the way to Deflector Control. 

As the doors slid open, Sanchez gestured to the massive convex dome resting on the opposite bulkhead and the massive conduit which branched from its apex back through the overhead supports above his head. The visitors from the Ferengi vessel claimed the three biggest consoles by the deflector dish. When the doors hissed behind Sanchez, the behaviors of the visitors completely changed. 

Helen Prime turned to Hannibal 324. “Do you have the frequency for the master restraint?” 

The bearded synthetic nodded in one emphatic thrust. “Programming it into the deflector dish.”

Sanchez frowned. “Que chingados?! Who has you on a master restraint?” 

At this point, Spartacus 731 turned to stare at Sanchez. “Do not interfere with our mission or you will be harmed.” The voice changed from monotone to spine-chillingly threatening. Sanchez muscles tensed in response. Out of instinct, Sanchez activated his combadge. “Security team to Deflector Control.” He thought he could take one of them but not all three. 

In response to Sanchez’s actions, Spartacus 731 rose from his seat and menacingly made his way to Sanchez. Raising his fists up like a prize fighter, Sanchez dug his heels into the deck. “You wanna try me on for size, vato? You’re looking at twelve years’ worth of golden glove training right here.” Sanchez took a swing at Spartacus 731. 

As his knuckles clashed with the assailant’s left jaw, a flurry of sensations bombarded Sanchez’s brain. At first, his fist struck the sensation of soft, warm skin as expected. Suddenly, as his knuckles buried further into the jaw, everything changed. Bursts of numbing pain erupted from his right hand as they struck the android’s tritanium endoskeleton. A series of cracking sounds filled the air as Sanchez realized he had essentially punched the outer hull of the ship and was now paying the price with shattered knuckles. 

Sanchez gingerly cradled his right hand as he slowly made his way back to the exit. All the while, his eyes were focused on his adversary. “You get some work done, vato?” Sanchez finally asked. “I ain’t never hit a jaw like that before.” 

The conversation was strictly rhetorical and intended to waste time. Sanchez knew he wasn’t going to get an answer. Before Spartacus 731 could respond, the doors to Deflector Control flung open and two phaser barrels poked into the chamber. Two blades of orange light sliced the air and struck Spartacus 731 square on the chest. The shots were set to stun as was standard. 

To the dismay of the junior security detachment, Spartacus 731 remained upright. He simply flinched and redirected his lethal gaze from Sanchez to the two fledgling space-farers. With Sanchez’s back finally hitting the wall, he turned to the security detachment. “Maximum setting and fire.” 

A split second later, two crimson phaser blasts punctured the air and struck Spartacus 731 squarely in the chest. The top half of his jumpsuit burst into flames. By the time the phasers were depleted, Spartacus 731 was shirtless and a quarter of flesh from his torso was vaporized revealing a series of shining metal plates and networks of blinking fortified circuitry. 

The artificial lifeform now turned to the security detachment for a reprisal. But before the enraged android could seize the two Destiny crewmembers, Sanchez pressed a button on the control panel which slammed the doors shut with a magnetic lock. In frustration, Spartacus 731 slammed his fist against the wall leaving a shallow dent on the pristine silver veneer. 

After his third swing, Helen Prime directed the charred synthetic hulk back to the console. “It is clear this vessel’s crew will not willingly give us what we want.” Her voice now portrayed abject frustration. “Therefore, we have to use our contingency plan.” The deflector conduit began to shimmer with vibrant indigo energy. Sanchez slapped his combadge to signal the bridge but no response happened. 

“It is useless, Commander.” Helen Prime turned to Sanchez. “At this point your vessel and crew are under our control.”


	2. Condition Orange

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life on the Destiny is derailed with the activation of a special security procedure called "Condition Orange."

Chapter 2: Condition Orange

The bridge of the U.S.S. Destiny was chattering with business as usual. Captain Shani Ukweli was reviewing duty rosters from the comforts of her command chair. At the Science Station, Lieutenant Commander Svetlana Tereshkova allowed herself a smile as she wrote a new page of an article she was writing pertaining to the metaphasic radiation she and Ship’s Surgeon Dr. Joseph Kakua discovered on the planet’s surface. 

At the Tactical Station, Lieutenant Ibrahim Al-Muzud was communicating with the convoy of Romulan civilian vessels to coordinate landing procedures and logistics for settlement. Cadet Kenneth Nguyen found himself sitting at the Helm making sure the ship’s elliptical orbit would not collide with the planet’s atmosphere. After signing off on the roster, Ukweli turned to Nguyen. “Status report, Cadet.” 

Nguyen gave a sigh. “Nothing to report, ma’am. Our orbit is stable and it’ll stay that way for the next ninety days. Then the ship’s orbit will decay and we’ll fall out of the sky in a giant fireball.” 

Ukweli gave Nguyen some professional advice. “Cadet, I understand your boredom but sometimes no news is the best news. I thought you’d enjoy a break after the craziness from last week’s mission to the planet.” 

Nguyen shrugged. “I would if I could remember what happened. The doctor told me some kind of radiation gave me an acute case of short-term memory loss.” 

“Sometimes ignorance is bliss, Cadet.” Ukweli warmly replied. “What you don’t know won’t hurt you.” 

Suddenly, Nguyen’s control console began to angrily chirp. As Nguyen began reading the screen, the entire ship’s hull began to undulate. “Captain, a strange energy build up is occurring in the deflector dish. It is targeting the Ferengi Factory ship.” 

Ukweli rose to her feet and attempted to contact Deflector Control without success. She then tried Commander Sanchez to the same effect. Al-Muzud turned to Ukweli and then Nguyen. 

Before anyone could respond, the viewscreen showed a massive burst of blue light streaming from the stardrive of the ship. The stream of twinkling blue particles reached out across the cosmic gulf and awkwardly struck the space between the Destiny and the Ferengi factory ship. 

The entire ship began to rumble chaotically, as Nguyen’s console began lighting up with frantic warnings. Nguyen gave the reports as quickly as they materialized. “Captain, I’m reading a subspace disruption.” 

Suddenly, a green halo of light appeared around the blue stream of energy. Now was Al-Muzud’s turn for a report. “Captain, a transwarp signature appears to be forming dead ahead.” 

Ukweli’s face twisted itself in shock as she turned to Al-Muzud. “Transwarp signature? We haven’t had one of those in almost twenty years. Are you saying what I think you are saying?” 

Suddenly, the viewscreen depicting the blue supergigant of the Hokulea star system was eclipsed by a hulking space-frame emerging from the green halo of light. Transient flashes of green light rippled across each corner of the vessel. When the eclipse was complete, everyone on the bridge knew what they were facing: a Borg Cube. 

Before Nguyen could report his sensor findings, every speaker on the ship spoke with one all-consuming voice. “We are the Borg. You will be assimilated. Resistance is futile.” 

After those three simple phrases, the Destiny prepared itself for war. The entire bridge was bathed in a crimson glow as Ukweli gave maneuvering orders to Nguyen and Al-Muzud. Halfway through Nguyen complied with the first maneuver, the Borg cube shot a volley of energy blasts. A split second later, the Destiny violently shook as the blasts struck the shields. 

Before Ukweli could give her orders, a cataclysmic explosion ripped through the center of the bridge. When showers of sparks and shrapnel subsided, Ukweli’s lifeless remains crumbled onto the deck plates, her right hand brushed against Nguyen’s foot. 

Nguyen’s military bearing unraveled in horror as he saw the body of his captain draped beneath her. He turned to Al-Muzud for orders. “Respect the chain of command, Cadet. Tereshkova is now acting captain.” 

Nguyen turned to Tereshkova who confidently rose to her feet. “Cadet, project a parabolic course around the cube. Tactical, lock phasers on the starboard face of the cube and ready quantum torpedoes to attack any shield fluctuations.” 

Suddenly, another volley hit the ship causing Tereshkova’s console to explode. The young science officer staggered back into her chair with a smoldering wound on her stomach. 

Al-Muzud turned to Nguyen whose body trembled in a confused shrug. “What are your orders, Acting Captain?” Ngyuen struggled to articulate a strategy. Instead he vaguely pointed at the Tactical Officer. In response, Al-Muzud shook his head. “I am in charge of this vessel’s armaments. If I leave my post for a second, we’re sunk. As a Command Candidate, it is your job to take control of the ship.” 

Nguyen tentatively made his way to the command chair by cringingly stepping over Ukweli’s body. Now that he was seated in the Captain’s Chair, he pulled up a tactical display and examined the situation. While he subconsciously retrieved every strategy he had read about back at the Academy, the chaos erupting around him demanded his immediate attention. 

“Captain, the cube is maneuvering itself between the Ferengi factory vessel and the Romulan warbird squadron.” Al-Muzud reported. “They are initiating assimilation protocols on both sets of vessels. What are your orders?” 

When he heard the Ferengi factory vessel, the first name that popped into his head was “Edala.” 

With passionate confidence, Nguyen ordered the Destiny to position itself between the cube and the factory vessel to inhibit its transporters which would beam drones over for assimilation. 

“Make sure you quickly shift our shield modulations,” Nguyen ordered Al-Muzud. “We don’t want any drones on this ship either.” Nguyen then pulled up the tactical screen on the command chair and activated the ship’s transporter scattering fields as an extra precaution. 

The Destiny limped into the proper formation and began opening fire on the Cube. For three minutes, Nguyen basked in the perceived success that he had saved the Ferengi vessel and its esteemed passengers from harm. 

Then another violent cascade of explosions rocked the Destiny bridge. With sweat glistening on his face, Nguyen turned to Al-Muzud for a report. “Was that from the Cube?” 

Al-Muzud shook his head. “No, it was from the Si’ad.” The tactical officer then explained that the Borg Cube had assimilated the entire squadron of warbirds since the Destiny positioned itself to guard the factory vessel. 

Nguyen sourly gulped as he turned to the viewscreen and saw 25 assimilated Borg vessels glaring back at him with weapons charged. “Captain,” Al-Muzud responded. “The Borg vessels appear to be initiating assimilation protocols for our vessels. What are your orders?” 

Nguyen shot a glance over at Al-Muzud before making his decision. “We can’t allow the Collective to access our tactical database. Initiate self destruct procedures. Ready transporter systems to evacuate the remaining crew to the surface. Send a communique to the Ferengi vessel to follow suit, if able.” 

After entering a series of command codes, a final prompt appeared on Nguyen’s tactical display indicating that with his order, the Destiny would destroy itself in sixty seconds. Nguyen turned to Al-Muzud and asked if the transporter systems were ready. 

Al-Muzud nodded reverently. Nguyen gave a heavy sigh before enabling the sequence on his control screen. “Then, we live to fight another day.” 

A somber klaxon reverberated through every deck as the computer’s dispassionate voice declared. “Auto-destruct in sixty second.”

Nguyen jumped to his feet and joined Al-Muzud in the center of the Destiny bridge for standard transporter procedures. Before the blue and white columns washed over the both of them, Al-Muzud raised his right hand. “Computer, end program.” 

The mayhem around Nguyen melted away in a digital haze. When the holodeck’s pristine metal walls came back into focus, Nguyen gave a heavy sigh and turned to Al-Muzud. “It wasn’t the best strategy in the galaxy but it did keep us from getting assimilated.” 

Al-Muzud nodded. “I cannot argue with that.” 

Nguyen wiped the sweat from his forehead as Al-Muzud gave his debriefing. “The critical flaw in your strategy involved your choice to defend the Ferengi factory vessel instead of the Romulan warbird squadron. Why did you make that decision?”

Nguyen bit his lip and quickly pieced together a defensive response. “Because the Ferengi factory vessel had Ambassador Picard and Romulan intendant Edala as passengers.” Nguyen would not allow himself to omit Edala from his answer. “If the Borg assimilated them, the Collective would not only have access to classified Federation secrets but also potentially Romulan ones, too.” 

Al-Muzud gave a satisfactory nod as an appraisal of his answer. “But, Edala is simply an aide. The squadron had 24 different commanders with potentially lifetimes’ worth of formal Imperial Briefings.” 

Nguyen took off his combadge to air out his uniform as Al-Muzud continued his debriefing. “Not to mention, there is the issue of numbers, too. The warbirds in this scenario represented an interesting element to the test.” Al-Muzud gave a wry smile to complete his assessment. “By allying yourself with the squadron and coordinating your efforts with them, there was a chance you could not only defeat the Borg cube but also pull off the seemingly impossible feat of strengthening diplomatic ties with the Romulan Star Empire.” 

He handed the young cadet a towel from a locker recessed in the wall. “That’s what Picard and Edala are fighting for.” 

“Ukweli to Al-Muzud.” Al-Muzud activated his combadge with a slap. “Lieutenant, I need you to report to Deflector Control, the dish has just fired a strange particle blast at the Ferengi vessel and Commander Sanchez is not responding.” Ukweli’s voice was drenched in concern. 

“Acknowledged.” Al-Muzud’s voice was twisted with irony. The tactical officer and strategic instructor knew about the Deflector Control issues ahead of time because everything on the Holodeck was designed to mimic the exact conditions of the bridge before the combat subroutines were activated. Al-Muzud explained this phenomenon to Nguyen with the pretext that it was “the best part of teaching combat strategy classes.” 

Nguyen chuckled his response. As the duo made their way out of the holodeck, Nguyen began peppering the officer with constructive criticism masked with innocent questions. “Lieutenant, I greatly appreciate you taking time to give me these lessons but I was wondering: why did you use the Borg for this scenario? Starfleet Command hasn’t deemed them a threat since the Magellan incident about twenty years ago.” 

Al-Muzud soberly responded. “The Borg are a resilient species. While they may be down and out now, I have no doubt in my mind that they will adapt. And when they do, we’re in trouble.” 

Nguyen asked why as the duo exited the Holodeck. 

“The Borg allegedly assimilated technology from twenty years in the future before their system shutdown began. That’s technology that Starfleet Command has kept classified in the interests of preserving the timeline.” Al-Muzud opened a turbolift and gestured for Nguyen to enter. “If the Collective was able to properly assimilate the technology and then improve on it in the following decades, they will not only be back with a vengeance but a terrifying technological advantage.” 

Suddenly, as the turbolift car began its transition from vertical to horizontal transport, a violent tremor shook the ship. With a deafening thud, the turbolift car came to a halt. Al-Muzud frowned and activated his combadge to signal the bridge. Before he received a response, the turbolift became bathed in oscillating waves of orange light. An automated computer voice repeated the phrase “Condition Orange. Observe lockdown procedures. Condition Orange.” 

Al-Muzud muttered a curse under his breath in annoyance as he turned to an uncomprehending Nguyen. Condition Orange, the chief security officer explained, is an automated security countermeasure to an unauthorized seizure of the main computer. Al-Muzud frowned as he surveyed the cramped quarters of the turbolift car.   
“At this point, all systems are being automatically locked out to anyone below Chief Engineer status. It’ll start with the tactical database and weapon systems.” Al-Muzud explained. “Then engines will shut down along with the…” In the blink of an eye, Al-Muzud’s professorial speech was cut short as his body spontaneously combusted into a column of blue and white energy and disappeared. Nguyen dropped his jaw in horror. “Lieutenant?” 

The young cadet slapped his combadge to signal the bridge. When no response came, Nguyen rolled his eyes dispiritedly. “I have a feeling the communication system was shut down next. That figures. The way things are going today I’ll probably...” 

In the next instant, Nguyen’s body dissolved in a column of blue and white light. A new barrage of sensations struck Nguyen as he finally completed his statement. His eyes were blinded by vibrant colors. His legs and waist felt damp. His feet seemed to sway back and forth on shaky ground. Suddenly, a wave of seawater struck the young cadet squarely on the back, throwing him headlong into a shallow seabed.

By the time, Nguyen staggered upright, he found himself wading on the beach of a tropical island on Hokulea 4. With seawater stinging his eyes, he could only make out a hazy collection of figures ebbing and flowing like a mirage. The nearest figure reached out a hand to him and pulled him out of the water. 

As Nguyen trudged onto dry land, he tried to dry his eyes with the sleeve of his uniform and came face to face with Captain Shani Ukweli. The commanding officer ardently stood at the position of attention and surveyed the waves of blue and white transporter beams which spontaneously cropped up on the island. Ukweli focused her eyes on a small grove of trees about ten meters ahead of her and decided that would be the most ideal site for a command post. 

While maintaining a respectful three paces behind his commanding officer, Nguyen finally asked. “Captain, what is going on?” 

Ukweli’s eyes flashed with furious fire as her boots struck the leafy rainforest floor. “Someone wants to take my ship and I won’t have it.” She turned to a disoriented collection of crewmembers who freshly materialized on the sandy point behind her. 

Nguyen raised an eyebrow as Ukweli greeted Al-Muzud in the grove. The tactical officer reported that most of the crew appears to have been ejected from the Destiny and all of them were unarmed. Ukweli tightened her face in determination before laying out her plan. “We must do everything we can to reacquire the Destiny.” She turned to Al-Muzud and ordered him to see if any of the marooned crew had equipment with which they could analyze the Destiny and assess the situation. 

At this point, Nguyen snapped to a position of attention and gave an enthusiastic salute. “I’m with you all the way, Captain. But tell me, who could want our ship?” 

Suddenly, as Al-Muzud made his way back into the jungle, a synthetic symphony of hums filled the air. A split second later, two dozen disruptor barrels emerged from behind the curtains of leaves and vines which surrounded Al-Muzud, Ukweli and Nguyen. 

Unarmed and ambushed, Al-Muzud, Ukweli, and Nguyen raised their hands to the skies. While Al-Muzud and Ukweli remained silent, Nguyen uttered a small curse under his breath in Vietnamese. 

Back in Deflector Control, moments before the mayhem, Helen Prime continued giving orders to Hannibal 324 and Spartacus 731. In a second, the main conduit leading to the Deflector Dish began to glow with blinding blue brilliance. Within ten seconds, Spartacus 731 was counting off percentages until the Deflector Dish was fully charged. 

Helen Prime stared at the blazing column of high energy particles with savage determination as she asked Hannibal 324 if the Ferengi Factory Vessel was in range. Her bearded compatriot nodded as Spartacus 731 indicated that the computer was going to shut down the deflector dish in less than ten seconds. 

Ripples of rage surged through Helen Prime’s forearms and fingers as a digital rendering of the factory vessel appeared before her. She indicated the main factory floor section. “Target these coordinates and fire.” 

The eruption of energy cast a thunderous crash. Like a bullet from a gun, all of the contents inside the main deflector conduit exploded from the transparent aluminum barrel in an instant. The convex side of the deflector dish blazed with the glow of a miniature supernova before the salvo of particles lashed out into space in a formidable stream of light. 

In those moments, Sanchez remained slumped by the sealed hatchway. While the three androids had assumed he had accepted defeat, the Commander had discreetly placed his hand on the access panel to the door behind him and triggered the Condition Orange by tapping out the word “orange” in Morse Code on the lock button. Only senior officers were briefed on this tactic. 

When the computer complied, Sanchez was horrified to see the three androids working faster than humanly possible to inflict as much damage as they could before the lockdowns went into effect. When the weapon systems and tactical databases shut down, Hannibal 324 installed a subroutine which kept the computer in a diagnostic loop long enough for him to beam every crewmember --other than Sanchez-- off the ship. The lights dimmed low as the transporters labored with such a difficult task. By the time they were restored, transporter control fell offline. 

In the aftermath, Helen Prime and her two compatriots stood victorious over their consoles. Although the Destiny’s computer had locked them out of any meaningful control over the ship, the androids portrayed themselves as triumphant conquerors savoring a successful campaign. 

At this point, Sanchez rose to his feet. “I hope it was worth it. Now that Condition Orange has fully gone into effect, no one on this ship can control as much as a door chime. It’s all locked up.” 

Helen Prime turned to the Chief Engineer. “Then we’ll have to break some locks, won’t we?” She turned to her compatriots. “Begin Stage 2. Inform me when our liberated brothers and sisters start making their way over.”


End file.
